Learn to Love Again
by Slovenskych
Summary: Lithuania has decided to face the nation that he has been running away from for thirty years...but resuming a relationship with his former master proves to be a delicate balancing act. RusLiet, set in the future.
1. To Love Again

**I've gone back into the depths of my brainstorming and finally decided to post some of it. There is an entire story behind how Toris and Alfred broke up, but... I don't have time for that. This story is set in the FUTURE, around 2020 or so. I'm assuming that the fighting in Ukraine is still going on at this point. **

**Notice: This is not meant to have any political implications WHATSOEVER. Toris and Ivan are NOT representing their countries' governments in this situation, they are acting on their own emotions and personal pasts.**

**Happy Valentine's Day! :)**

_February 7, 2020_

_Ivan's visit is going surprisingly well. I've taken him to the main sights in Vilnius, and so far nothing 'bad' has happened. He's been very quiet. I'm explaining my history as best as I can but sometimes I'm not sure if he's even listening to me. He looks off at the castle or church, (never at me) nodding or saying 'Da' or 'hm' every now and then. He never asks questions or smiles. It's very strange, but of course talking to him at all is strange. I don't think I've spent this much time with him since before I ran away. _

_There's still a lot of tension between us._ _I just can't shake the feeling that he's lost in his head, trying to figure out some giant puzzle, but I can't think of what that puzzle might be. I just hope that he opens up a little, so we can talk about some things._ _The most he's said to me so far was a complaint about how the heating system in this hotel is never_ _working._

_And here I go again, because Feliks made me promise to write this every day during Ivan's visit..._

_If Russia even sneezes on me or touches me or hugs me or tries to kiss me or looks at me the wrong way or says anything creepy or picks up anything that could potentially be a weapon (which is everything) or breathes on me, I am to follow these Five Fabulous Steps:_

_1\. Run away as fast as nationly possible._

_(plan B) Grab anything within reach that could be used as a weapon and beat the shit out of Russia with it. _

_2\. Scream bloody murder._

_3\. Call the police._

_4\. Call Polska The Powerful and tell him EXACTLY what happened. _

_5\. Never ever, ever, EVER speak to that_ _kozojeb sukinsyn_ _again._

_I keep thinking that Feliks is spying on us, but so far I haven't seen any sign of him. He promised he wouldn't, but you never know with Feliks. I have to go, Ivan is complaining about the temperature again. I don't get it, shouldn't he be used to the cold?_

_Toris Laurinaitis _

_Lietuva_

* * *

The receptionist smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind her hear. "Yes, sir, I'll tell them to fix it."

"Thank you." Toris turned and made for the elevator. He could have called the office, but he needed some time away from Ivan, even if it was only a few minutes. He had a strange feeling that Ivan enjoyed watching him run around and try to fix things. _Like I'm his servant all over again. _Toris pressed the button to the elevator and shoved his hands in his pockets. He wanted to be a good host, but at the same time he wanted to show Ivan how much he had grown. He was not the same nation that ran away from the mansion thirty years ago.

The elevator doors slid open and Toris stepped inside. He sighed and leaned against the cool metal wall as it began to surge upwards, watching the red dotted light of the floor number flash from zero to one.

He wasn't sure what he expected to get out of Ivan's visit. All he knew is that he had been running from Ivan for years, too terrified of his own past to even speak of his experiences in the mansion with his closest friends. But ever since he had called Ivan on the phone last month, Toris was sure that the Russian's cold exterior was only a mask. He was positive there was still some remaining part of the man he had fallen in love with all those years ago. Even so, he had to be extremely cautious. Toris remembered Ivan's words from the Sochi Olympics in 2014:

_Amerika may claim to love you, but to his people you are nothing. In your moment of greatest desperation, he will not be there. But_ I_ will. And I am going to kill you. Slowly, painfully, beautifully, you will die._

Toris shuddered and hugged himself, the elevator halting to a stop and the doors sliding open. He hoped he hadn't misjudged the changes in Ivan since Sochi. If so, this visit could possibly be the worst mistake of his life.

His footsteps echoed in the hallway as he made his way to Ivan's hotel room. Toris swiped his key card across the door, swinging it open and stepping inside.

"The receptionist said she'll turn the heat on. She was nice, it's not every day you meet nice people like that, you know?" He frowned at the assortment of travel guides on the floor. Toris bent down, scooping the maps and castle brochures into his arms. "Her name was Janina. Said she was working hard to earn money for University, her parents can't afford it." He stood up and dropped them onto the bed, letting out a light laugh. "Heh…America isn't the only place where our children are scrounging around for money, yeah?" Toris tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, turning to send Ivan a warm smile.

Ivan was staring at him.

Toris tensed. Usually Ivan avoided eye contact, or never looked at him in the eye for more than a few seconds. Now he was sitting in the hotel room chair, violets burning and staring at Toris with an intensity that made him squirm.

"What?" Toris raked his hands through his hair, worried there might be something wrong with it, but he knew there wasn't. Ivan would never stare for a silly reason like that.

"Take off your shirt, Litva."

Toris froze. The world around him darkened and slowed until there was nothing but him, those pair of violet eyes, and the monster of fear rumbling in his gut.

Ivan stood up from his chair. "Take your shirt off."

Toris sprung to the door in one leap, his hands wrenching at the knob. It rattled and banged against the doorjamb, but it was locked. He bolted into the bathroom and slammed the door shut, but a boot wedged inside. Toris's eyes swept over the bathroom counter and he picked up a razor. A shoulder and an arm pushed open the door, and Toris lashed out with the razor, dragging it into the skin and drawing blood. Ivan let out a hiss of pain, but he squeezed himself into the bathroom and shut the door behind him. Toris jumped into the shower, slamming the glass door behind him and leaning his entire weight on it.

"PAGALBA!" Toris's voice echoed in the glass walls of the shower. "PAGALBA, ESU BŪTI UŽPULTAM! KAŽKAM MAN PADĖTI, PRAŠAU!"

Ivan's strength was much greater than his own, and with a jerk the door slid open. Toris turned on the shower and ice cold water bit into his skin. Ivan hissed in surprise and jerked back. Toris darted out, but a hand closed around his mouth before he could reach the bathroom door. An unbearable weight pushed him to the floor, the tile cold against his wet skin. The shower sprayed on, so steady and calm while he felt legs lock over his, spreading his thighs apart. Fabric scraped his back as his shirt was lifted up to his neck.

Toris was coughing and screaming and crying so hard that he couldn't breathe. He tried to thrash, but he couldn't move. He couldn't believe he had allowed himself to be in this situation again. The moment he had been dreading, running away from for thirty years, this was it, it was _here,_ in this bathroom of this hotel in his own country. He hated himself. His throat burned and he felt like he was drowning.

The shower water sprayed.

After a moment, his shirt was lowered back down. The shower water turned off. Toris's entire body heaved, his belly touching the cool tile floor and rising again. His gasps for air filled the small bathroom, echoing in rhythm with his pounding heart.

"You still have the scars." Ivan's voice was too soft, too innocent. "You… you still have them. Why?"

Toris didn't answer, his brain screaming with what Ivan was about to do to him.

"I thought for sure they would have… faded by now."

What was he _waiting _for?! Why was he just... _talking!_

"Litva. Why are the scars still there?"

Toris didn't answer.

Fabric shifted and Ivan's hot breath tickled Toris's ear, "I am going to let you go, Litva. You will not run away like you did thirty years ago. You will answer my question, da?"

Toris hated himself for it, but he nodded.

The fabric slipped away, the pressure was gone. Toris scrambled to his knees and slowly stood up. He took deep breaths, in, out, tried to relax. Then he flung open the door and bolted out of the bathroom.

Ivan was on him in a second, slamming his entire body into the door. Toris tried screaming, but a thick leather glove smashed his lips closed. Ivan's face was an inch away from his, violets flaming with more emotion than Toris had seen in years.

"NYET!" Ivan roared. "Nyet, you will NOT run away from me again! I have asked you a question, Litva, and you _will_ answer it."

Toris was filled with rage. Did Ivan still think he was a subordinate? The glove slipped from his mouth, slick with his own sweat. "You are not my master," he snarled, voice shaking with terror and anger. "Let me go."

"I will not let you go until you answer me!"

"And _what_ have you done to deserve an answer?!" Toris shouted back, his chest heaving.

Ivan's eyes narrowed to violet slits. "I put those scars there. I dug them into your very body, they are as much a part of me as they are of you. Now _tell me_ why they are still there."

"Tell me why it matters so much."

Ivan's eyes widened at the question, his grip loosening. All at once, Toris saw a flicker of the nation he used to know. "It… it matters…" Ivan seemed to be trying to find something inside of Toris, some mystery. "It matters… because I thought… I thought you had forgotten me."

Toris didn't say anything, he was trying to understand this transformation before him.

"I thought… I thought they would be gone. You looked… you always looked so..._happy,_ with Amerika, and your brothers, every time I saw you… You never even _looked_ at me, Litva. You were always smiling, it was beautiful, but it was not – not at me. Never at me, Litva. Surely, I thought, those scars were gone."

Toris's eyes widened. "Ivan…"

Ivan's eyes were filled with despair. "Tell me," He breathed. "Please, Litva, you must – you must tell me, why – _how _– how are they still there?"

A new calm came over Toris and he looked Ivan in the eye. "They are still there, because you are impossible to forget."

"A-and – and this – _this_ is how you remember me?"

Toris's chest ached. "I – n-no… I mean – how else, Ivan, how else was I supposed to – to – " His throat clogged. He couldn't say it.

Ivan's brows scrunched together. "That night, when you called me. I asked you what you were running away from, and you didn't answer. I thought you were running away from me."

"M-me… me too…"

Ivan stared at Toris a moment, then he slowly let go of his collar and backed up. Toris's legs gave out under him and he collapsed onto the carpet. He sat there, trying to catch his breath, trying to understand the raging emotions inside of him.

"Litva, I do not think you are running away from me. I am here. You are not running."

Toris didn't know what to say. For thirty years, he had been positive that he was running away from Ivan. He had confronted him hoping to overcome that fear. But why did he still feel like he was hiding from something? _What was there to hide from?_

Toris stared at his own hands. They were shaking. "I – I th-thought – wh-when y-you pinned me to the – the floor…"

"I only wanted to look at your scars."

Toris jerked his head up to glare at Ivan. "Then why did you _do_ that!?"

"There was no other way, I knew you would not let me see willingly."

"B-But – you could have _asked!"_

"I did ask."

"For me to take my _shirt_ off!" Toris cried. "Y-you – you didn't explain why, or – or what you were d-doing, or – " Toris couldn't stop himself, he started crying. He was afraid, he was so afraid… but _what was he afraid of?_

"In Sochi I told you I wanted to kill you. I was telling the truth."

Toris looked up, eyes wide.

Ivan sighed, his eyes fixed onto the carpet. "I thought you hated me. You… you ran away from me, so suddenly and then – and then almost a second later, there you are, dating that damn American. I thought you had done it on purpose. I looked over and I would see you laughing, and I thought, he is laughing at me. Rubbing my defeat in my face, relishing in my pain. I looked at you, Litva, and I was filled with more hate and hurt and betrayal than I have ever felt in my entire life, I wanted to _kill_ you!" Ivan pounded a fist on the wall, his teeth bared into a pained grimace. "So badly… I hated you _so much, _but – but Yao said I could never hate you like that if I didn't still love you. And I hated him for saying that, but after thirty years I _still_ wanted to see you dead, and Yao left me. He said I was obsessed. I didn't want to believe him, how could I love the man that hurt me so much?"

Ivan's eyes searched the carpet, refusing to look up at Toris. "But then… then last month, you called me. I thought you would be begging me to get out of Ukraine, I was ready to strip you of everything right there on the phone. I wanted to give you nightmares. But – but you were _crying_, and – and you asked me for _help_, and… I didn't know what to do, I wondered if it was some kind of prank or… or something. I was so confused. And now – now I am sure, but I must ask you, I _must_ have an answer." Ivan looked up, and for the first time Toris saw in those eyes the same man he parted with thirty years ago. Ivan's voice was so soft, so cracked and hopeful and desperate, as if his entire existence depended on this one question.

"Do you hate me, Litva?"

It was such a simple question, but the answer was so complicated. Toris took a deep, suddering breath. "I hate _me. _I never hated you, Ivan, I only hated _myself_ for – " The tears again. Toris had never told anyone this, not Eduard, not Raivis or Feliks or Alfred. He didn't even dare tell _himself,_ but it was true and it had eaten away at his gut for thirty years. And now Ivan was here, asking him this, and if he didn't say it now then he'd never say it and it might end up killing him from the inside out.

"For – for…" Toris looked up and said in a soft, terrified whisper, "For wanting to go back."

Ivan's eyes widened in shock. Toris felt numb. He wasn't sure if he was in his body anymore, he had just told the thing that was killing him, and it had left all at once and now he couldn't even think._ I did it. I did it, I said it!_

Ivan's voice trembled, tears formed on the corners of his eyes. "You wanted… to come _back?"_

"I never hated you, Ivan. How could I, when – after everything – I missed you, I missed you _so much_, and I was so afraid of that because I wasn't supposed to. Everyone would hate me, my brothers, my friends… I would be a traitor to my own people. That's why – that's why I ran away. I ran away because I had to. That's why I dated America, because I was so afraid of running back. I saw you everywhere, I thought about you every day, I – I – missed you, Ivan, I _missed you!" _

Toris laughed, it felt amazing to say it out loud. Ivan was crying now, too, and before he even realized what was happening, the Russian had crashed into him and pressed him into a tight, relieved, elated hug. Toris wrapped his arms around the soft material of Ivan's scarf, remembering the way it scratched against his skin. He buried his head into that familiar smell of sunflowers and vodka. Everything rushed back to him – Ivan's strength, Ivan's smell, Ivan's hair and Ivan's shoulders and neck and the deep rumble of sobs that reverberated through his body. Everything, everything he had been running away from for thirty years, hiding from, dreaming of… it was here, it was _now_, and Toris had no idea why he had been terrified of something so warm, something that made him feel more happy than he had in centuries.

Toris didn't know how long they stayed like that, crying in each other's arms. It was as if a giant weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. He felt happy, he felt _free._ He felt like he could run a thousand miles and never be tired. He had_ nothing else to hide!_

At last they pulled apart. Ivan's huge hands came to cup on the side of Toris's face. They were calloused and warm, Toris couldn't help but lean into the touch. He smiled through his tears to see Ivan looking at him with wonder, disbelief, awe.

"All these years…" Ivan whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. "All these years…"

Toris laughed, reaching up his hands to touch Ivan's wrist. His hands jerked back when his fingers brushed liquid, and he gasped. "You're bleeding!"

Ivan forced himself to tear his eyes away from Toris to look at the long shallow cut across his arm where the razor had scraped him. "Da."

"I have First-Aid in my suitcase – " Toris made to get up, but Ivan's hands tightened on his face.

"Wait, Litva – "

"It'll just take a minute, let me patch you up."

Ivan stared at Toris a moment, then slowly pulled his hand away. "Da," he whispered.

Toris stood up, his legs still shaking as he walked over to his suitcase. He rummaged through, pulling out a large box full of bandages and disinfectant. Funny, he thought, the kit was meant for him, not Ivan. "Clean it under running water," He said, placing the box on the bed and snapping it open.

Ivan made a huffing sound, then stood up and disappeared into the bathroom. Toris could hear the faucet water running, and in a flash he remembered the shower spraying while he was pinned to the floor. He shuddered, spreading out the bandages and gauze. He rubbed his eyes and cheeks with the back of his hand, smearing the tears away. The faucet stopped, then he could hear Ivan approaching behind him.

"Sit on the bed."

"You keep telling me what to do, da?"

"You're in my country," Toris reminded him, a slight smile on his lips.

Ivan frowned, lowering himself onto the edge of the bed. Toris noticed that he, too, had wiped away any sign of crying.

"Give me your arm."

Ivan held out his arm, and Toris carefully rubbed the disinfectant over the bright red flesh. He almost apologized for attacking Ivan, but stopped himself.

"I can do it myself, Litva."

"You wouldn't use the disinfectant."

"It would still heal."

"It would get infected." Toris could feel those eyes watching him. He tried to fight down a blush as he picked up the gauze and medical tape, carefully patching up Ivan's cut.

"Litva, I can't help but think you have been watching too many of Amerika's Disney Princess movies."

Toris felt his face flush red. "We did _not_ watch – those movies!"

Ivan's chest rumbled with a deep _kolkolkol._ Toris's hands darted away and his muscles tensed at that sound. Ivan stopped laughing and cocked an eyebrow.

"I – I'm sorry," Toris mumbled. Then he cursed in Lithuanian. _Don't apologize!_ He could feel Ivan studying him.

"You've changed. You're… how to put it…" Toris looked up to see the Russian looking at the ceiling in thought. "You are more like your old self, da? Before Communism, but even before that, during the Commonwealth. But still, you are different… more wise, I think. You have the confidence of an empire, but the wisdom of a fallen one." His eyes fell to look at Toris. "That is a good combination, da?"

Toris felt his cheeks flush. "I… don't think I have _that_ much confidence."

"You have more than I do. We are both fallen empires, Litva. You have recovered from yours, I have yet to do so from mine."

"Yours was much more recent," Toris whispered. "I've had a long time to heal."

"Da."

The room lapsed into silence. It was as if they were fascinated by each other – this nation in front of Toris was no longer the Ivan he thought he knew. There were so many questions he wanted to ask, so much he wanted to discover. He wanted to spend every hour of the waking day by Ivan's side, figuring him out all over again. He could tell by the way Ivan was looking at him that he was thinking the same thing. An unspoken excitement buzzed in the air around them, just waiting for someone to make the first move.

Just then there was loud banging at the door.

"Atverti! Tai policija!"

Toris jumped in surprise, rushing to open the door to be met with several policemen. He frowned. "Is there a problem?"

"We got a call saying there was some screaming coming from this room."

Toris felt his face flush with embarrassment. So somebody_ had_ heard. He hated to imagine what would have happened if Ivan had actually... he shuddered. "Oh, there's nothing to worry about, everything's fine." He flashed his best 'everything's fine' smile, but the officer wasn't convinced.

"We will need to take a look around."

"Ah, um... yes, of course!"

The policeman shouldered into the room, their hands ghosting over their holsters as they scanned the area. Ivan's face darkened, obviously not appreciating the presence of police officers in his hotel room.

"Livta, what is the meaning of this?"

Toris flushed. "It's nothing, someone heard me screaming and they called - "

"You!" The first officer exclaimed, pointing a finger at Ivan. "You are Russian?"

Ivan looked ready to rip the man's head off right then and there. "Da," he growled between clenched teeth.

The officer's brows creased. "I will need identification. For both of you."

Toris and Ivan both found their wallets, handing over their government ID's. One officer ran back to his police car, while the others continued to search the hotel room and ask Ivan more questions.

"What's the purpose of your visit? And you were sent here alone, without any military protection? Why are you not at the Russian embassy? Which places have you visited here in Lithuania? And you've been taking pictures? Of what, exactly?"

Ivan grew more and more irritated, all the while answering the policemen through a deadly smile, cold aura strong enough to make any child burst into tears. But the policemen didn't seem to notice. One of the younger officers could barely speak Russian, and Ivan winced at every grammar mistake. At last, one officer returned with the ID's and confirmed that Ivan was a government official on a business trip. After several more questions and another thorough examination of the room, the officers finally bid Toris a good day and left.

After the door clicked shut and the officer's footsteps faded down the hall, Toris burst into laughter.

Ivan frowned. "What is so funny."

Toris gasped and clutched his stomach, leaning against the wall with one hand. "You - your face - hahaha...You looked about ready t-to - and they didn't even - Hahaha!"

Ivan folded his arms across his chest. "That is nothing to laugh at, Litva. They were disrespectful."

"Ne!" Toris chuckled. "Ne, YOU were disrespectful! They're the _police_, Ivan! Hahaha, oh my god!"

It was a long time before Ivan asked, "Litva... are they teaching Russian in your schools?"

Toris wiped his eyes, at last gaining control of his laughter. "It's an option. Most kids these days want to learn English. Why do you ask?" Ivan just stared at him, eyes wide. Toris felt his face flush. "What?"

Slowly, a smile found its way to Ivan's lips. "Perhaps I should stop calling you Litva. You are Lietuva now, da?"

Toris stared at Ivan in shock. After centuries of abuse, friendship, and twisted romance, Ivan had never once called him by his real nation name. It was always _my Litva, Little One - _names of ownership, possession. With a swell of pride and joy, Toris realized that Ivan no longer saw him as his subordinate.

"Ivan, I - th-thank you..." He closed his eyes, feeling the tears threatening to spill over again.

There was a moment of silence, then, "It's getting late, da? We should go out to dinner."

Toris was glad for the change of subject. He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. "Where would you like to go?"

Ivan shrugged his great shoulders. "This is your country, not mine."

"I could take you to one of my favorite places downtown, they have amazing soup."

Ivan smiled. "Da, that sounds good."

Toris looked into Ivan's eyes. He felt a sudden thrill overcome him, but all the words they wanted to say remained unspoken as they got ready to leave. The door clicked behind them and Ivan's heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway. Toris watched the red numbers of the elevator count down. _8\. . . 7. . . 6 . . . _He glanced sideways at Ivan and felt a stir inside of him.

_Something big is about to happen, _he thought, smiling to himself. _And I don't think the rest of the world will be ready for it. _

_"_Lietuva?"

"Taip?"

"Tell me a story about your country."

"A story?"

"Da."

The elevator door slid open, and Toris immediately knew which one he wanted to tell. They walked out into the streets of Vilnius, the night sky glistening with stars. Ivan was looking down at him, waiting for him to begin. Toris took a deep breath.

"Legend has it that the Grand Duke of Lithuania, Gediminas, was hunting in the sacred forest near the Valley of Šventaragis. He was very tired after the day's hunt, and so he fell asleep and began to dream. In his dream, a huge Iron Wolf was standing on top a hill and of hundreds of other wolves were howling from inside it, filling all of the surrounding fields and woods. When he awoke, the Duke asked the priest to interpret the meaning of the dream. And the priest told him: 'The Iron Wolf represents a castle and a city which will be established by you on this site. This city will be the capital of the Lithuanian lands and the dwelling of their rulers, and the glory of their deeds shall echo throughout the world..."

**Translations:**

**kozojeb sukinsyn - (Polish) goatfucker s.o.b (I'm sure Poland has a magnificent collection of names he calls Russia)**

**PAGALBA, ESU BŪTI UŽPULTAM! KAŽKAM MAN PADĖTI, PRAŠAU! - Help, I'm being attacked! Somebody help me, please!**

**Atverti! Tai policija! - Open up! This is the police!**

**AN: Like I said, this story has pretty much nothing to do with current (or future) Lituanian/Russian relations. ****I read somewhere that Lithuania has issued war manuals in case of a Russian invasion. O.o (Link: ****ww m /ar ticle/2015 /0 1 /15/ us- lit hua n ia -m an ual -id US BN0 KO 0X Z2 015 01 15)**

**Thanks for reading, and please review! **


	2. Masks

**I should really be working on the three stories I have started, but instead all I can write is one-shot scenes about the future. I am terribly sorry about that. The good news is, senior year is almost over, which means I get to write again during the summer. Yay! **

**I have an entire storyline laid out in my head for Prussia's death, but I cannot post it as a full story because it is extremely politically sensitive. The "predictions" in this scene are completely my speculation, completely for Hetalia purposes. Ivan's attitude is NOT meant to portray a national Russian opinion - it is personal to him as a character. Also if you'd like some background information on how Prussia ended up in Ukraine, you can read my two-shot Friends Like These. ****Hope you enjoy! **

* * *

**Five Years Later **

Shafts of morning light filtered through the lace curtains of the dining room, broken by the shadows of birds swooping and bickering over the birdfeeder in the front garden. The house was silent save for the rustle of Ivan turning the pages of the newspaper and the soft whistle of the teapot. A silver spoon clinked on the inside of the teacup as Toris stirred in the vodka. He walked into the dining room and set it onto the table with a light _thunk._

"Spasibo, Litva," Ivan muttered from behind his copy of _Lietuvos Rytas._ Toris couldn't see his face - only thick fingers curled around the edges of the newspaper. He smiled when he realized that the Russian wasn't wearing gloves this morning - it meant he was starting to relax.

"Any news?" Toris joked, deciding to test how much of the Lithuanian Ivan actually understood.

"Mmm… Something about some basketball team beating another basketball team, some politician calling out another politician…"

Toris rolled his eyes. "Very specific, Ivan."

"Hey, I'm taking notes. See?" Ivan dipped the paper down so that Toris could see the hatchmarks of underlined and circled words. A small thrill coursed through him. He still couldn't believe that Ivan was learning _his_ language! Ivan hated new languages; he was much too paranoid about appearing weak or incompetent in front of foreigners. The fact that he was taking the time and effort to learn Lithuanian meant more to Toris than he could put into words.

He smiled. "Keep it up and you'll be speaking fluent Lithuanian in no time."

Ivan huffed through his nose and brought the paper back up. "You know it is really not like Russian at all."

"Ne," Toris agreed, returning to the kitchen for his own cup of tea.

"The grammar structure is completely different. And you have too many declensions!"

"And _you_ have a completely different alphabet," Toris reminded him, stirring some sugar into his own cup. Suddenly he remembered something and glanced up. "Wait, don't you speak Mandarin? Don't tell me Lithuanian is harder - "

"I learned it as a child; doesn't count."

Toris picked up his tea and took a seat at the table. He smiled. "Well at least you're trying."

"Da."

Over the years, Toris had acquired an ear for the different meanings of Ivan's notorious "Da". That simple word could mean anything from a simple, "Right?" at the end of a sentence, to a chillingly happy death threat: "You will come to my office now, da?", with the unspoken _or I will snap your neck _hidden in the question mark. There was that awe-struck, "Da," usually followed by a long gaze and passionate kissing. It was a combination of all the things Toris could see in Ivan's eyes but were rarely formed into coherent sentences: "You're beautiful, you're perfect, you're so much more than I deserve,_ I_ _love you."_ And then there was simply, "Da." Usually Ivan used this when he was preoccupied, or talking with other countries - _especially _when talking to Natalia. It meant, "Whatever you have to say to me is not worth my time. Leave me alone."

It was obvious which "Da," Ivan had just used, as he was completely engrossed in the newspaper. Toris didn't mind. He leaned back in his chair, taking light sips from his teacup as he watched the sparrows flit about the birdfeeder in his front garden. It was so strange, he realized, for him and Ivan to be sitting at the same table in complete silence… and yet he didn't feel uncomfortable at all. Toris smiled to himself, rubbing his thumb across the smooth handle of the teacup. So much had changed between them. It almost seemed as though they were a normal couple – no twisted history, no thirty year gap of never speaking to each other… of Ivan wanting him dead.

But even with the miraculous changes Toris had seen in Ivan, there was still something that bothered him. His stomach clenched at the thought, his gaze flicking in Ivan's direction. The Russian's brow was furrowed as he scratched a note onto the margins of the newspaper. Toris quickly looked away and felt a chill sweep down his back. He didn't want to ask. He didn't want to ruin this peaceful moment. In fact it would probably be better for them both if he never asked at all…

"Litva, is something wrong?"

_Šūdas. _Toris's eyes darted to meet Ivan's. He ran a hand through his hair, laughing lightly. "No, what makes you say that?"

"You are looking like something is wrong."

"I'm fine."

Ivan let out a great sigh, allowing the newspaper to fall onto the table with a _slap._ "After all this time, and you are still trying to hide your discomfort from me. We should be past this."

Toris felt his face flush. "I'm not – it doesn't matter, it – " But one look into those steely eyes, and he knew that Ivan wasn't going to let him go until he got a straight answer. Toris sighed, averting his gaze to the napkin holder at the center of the table. "Alright, if you really want to know… I was just wondering…" He swallowed and curled a fist at his cheek, then forced himself to look at Ivan. "Why didn't you come to Prussia's funeral?"

Ivan raised his eyebrows. "Prussiya's funeral?" Toris nodded. To his surprise, Ivan's lips curled into a half-smile. "I did not go, because I did not want to start World War Three."

Toris frowned; that smile unnerved him. "I don't understand."

Ivan leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs. "Well now if Germany invaded with all his military strength – not to count his allies – plus my nuclear power, I do believe that would be enough to cause a global catastrophe, do you not agree?"

Toris was confused; was Ivan suggesting a war? "You know as well as I do that Germany wouldn't take part in a military conflict to save his life."

"Nyet, but he would had I come to the funeral."

"Why?"

Again, that twisted smile. Ivan's eyes glittered as he said, "Because I would have laughed."

Toris was taken aback. He stared at Ivan in disbelief, but he could tell by that steady gaze that the Russian was being completely serious. He waited for more explanation, but Ivan only lifted the teacup to his lips, taking a loud sip.

"I – I'm sorry – " Toris scoffed, "I don't understand – "

"And _that,"_ Ivan said, gesturing towards Toris with his teacup. "Is why I did not go. If this is _your _reaction, then just imagine what kind of hell I would have to pay from Germany! That zombie apocalypse shelter of Amerika's would come to good use, da?"

Toris was lost. Ivan clearly thought this whole situation was funny; he couldn't see the humor at all. "Would you please explain to me _why _you would have laughed?"

"Not why I _would_ have laughed, Litva. Why I _did._ I got the news from my sestra: 'Oh brother, Prussiya is dying, you must come at once to Berlin to see him, all the other nations are coming!' and on and on, you know how she is. Well of course I told her I would not come and hung up. And then I laughed to myself, and I toasted to Prussiya's death." Ivan made a toasting motion with his teacup.

Toris's mouth had fallen open. "Ne…"

"Do not look so surprised, Litva. You know how much I hated him."

"But… you _saw_ how he changed us, how happy we were with him! Isn't that why you released him from the Gulags?"

"I never said I did not appreciate Prussiya's presence in my house. Nyet, I could never thank him enough for bringing us all together. I even considered him family."

This confused Toris more than anything. "But – then how – "

Ivan's lips spread into a patient smile. "It is a joke, Toris. Nothing more. When it was voted that I gain custody of Prussiya, I had only one consolation, and that was the chance to kill him. He even said it himself: 'How would you like to be the one to kill the Great Prussia, once and for all?' Well of course I wanted to. That Nazi was the scourge of the earth; he had started more wars and killed more of my people than could be counted. But I didn't just want to kill him, Litva. I wanted to do it slowly, painfully, I wanted to watch the very _light_ go out of his eyes."

For the first time in years, Toris saw a familiar sadistic glow come over Ivan's face. His hands clenched into fists in his lap and a familiar voice told him to put more distance between him and his former master. Toris blinked and tried to control his emotions. _He's not my former master, he's my boyfriend! _He took a shaky breath and forced himself to sit still.

Ivan continued, "But after years of trying to kill him, I had accomplished nothing. That cockroach was no closer to death in 1950 than he was in 1945. And that's when I realized: Something must be keeping him going. He must not be dying because he _couldn't_ die – because he still represented some pathetic scrounging group of people. All of my time and energy, my false hopes – wasted. Seven years of torture, and the only thing I had accomplished was to drive him completely mad."

Toris could hear the frustration in Ivan's voice, and it angered him. How could he speak so lightly of a nation's life? "You didn't just drive him mad. You drained him of all his memory, his identity. He didn't even know who he was, he _wanted_ to die!"

"He did not want to die, of that I am certain… He was ready, but he must have made some kind of deal with his brother." Ivan shrugged. "It does not matter. After I realized that my efforts were pointless, I finally decided to allow Prussiya into the family." Ivan stopped and looked at Toris expectantly.

Toris frowned. "I still don't see the joke."

_"Aha!"_ Ivan's voice boomed, causing Toris to jump. "Because you are forgetting the cause of his death! What was it, Litva, _who_ killed the Great Prussia, once and for all?"

"We... don't know," Toris said slowly, measuring his words. "The Ukrainians never found the shooter."

That twisted smile again. "Ah, but we can guess, da? It was either a Ukrainian separatist or a Russian volunteer, this much is obvious. Which means, what?"

Toris could tell this was the punchline. His stomach clenched in dread; he didn't answer.

Ivan's face spread into a grin. "It means that I bent over backwards trying to kill Prussiya myself for seven years, only for him to be shot and killed by a Russian seventy years later, and completely by accident!" Ivan slammed his hand on the table, making the teacups clatter. "An _accident,_ Litva, can you believe it? I did not challenge Prussiya to fight in Ukraine, I did not send any volunteer to kill him. Nyet, I did not even know Prussiya was helping my sestra at all! Yet had I not sustained the war, Prussiya would still be alive today. And so enough with this bullshit about 'whose-fault-is-it' and 'he-would-have-died-anyway' – Nyet!" Ivan leaned back in his chair, hands on the arms like a king after a victory."After all these years, since the moment he first spat out those words to me in 1945… It was_ I_ who killed The Great Prussia. _I_ killed him, once and for all."

Toris stared in horror. At last he managed to form a sentence. "You – you talk as if his life is some kind of… trophy! A – a _bragging right!"_

Ivan only raised his eyebrows. "Prussiya was a nation. Of course his life was a trophy, that is all we are: political figures."

"And _what_ did he represent?" Toris asked, his voice growing loud in his anger. "East Germany? The dying memory of Prussia? The Holocaust? What, Ivan, _what_ did he have left?"

Ivan's eyelids drooped in a look of boredom. He waved a great hand. "This is why I did not go to the funeral. Of course everyone is sensitive about these things – "

"_Sensitive?_ " Toris scoffed. "Prussia was like a brother to me! And to countless others – you should have seen the hundreds of Jewish descendants from the prisoners he saved during the war! Or the children that wrote letters to him, thanking him for his historical presentations at the elementary schools! And what about you, where would your 'family' have been without Prussia to bring us all together? And you are dismissing us as being _'sensitive'?"_

Ivan's gaze darkened. "If you are trying to stir up my pity it will not work. All nations must die. Prussiya was long past due; you should be grateful that he got as much time as he did."

"Yes, I am, but that doesn't mean you have to disregard his death as a _joke!"_

"I am who I AM, Litva!" Ivan's voice boomed and Toris shrank back in his chair. Ivan rose to his feet, looking down on Toris with a glare that froze him on the spot. "You have always tried to change me. You are always trying to find the 'real' me, as if all unpleasant parts of me are simply a mask. You should know better."

Toris's voice froze in his throat. That look in Ivan's eyes - he hadn't seen such anger directed at him in years, and it terrified him.

"I love you, and I have made some changes for you. But you cannot continue to treat me as your therapy patient. You think I stopped the war in Ukraine out of 'the goodness of my heart', because I _pitied_ her?" Ivan scoffed. "The only reason I started compromising was to get leverage over Natalia - to be with you. My conscience had nothing to do with it; had Natalia not blackmailed us I would have continued that war until sestra came crawling back to me, broke and begging for mercy."

Toris felt tears well up in his eyes. "Ne… Ivan, she's your _sister…"_

"And she has done more to rip our family apart than I _ever_ have!" Ivan's voice had risen in volume so that it vibrated through Toris's bones. There was a long stretch of silence. At last Ivan let out a great sigh, his eyes fixated on the table. His voice was much softer - dangerous.

"China warned me of this… he said,'Lithuania does not love you, he loves a fantasy sugar-coated version of you that he dreams up to justify your actions. And he will not stop until he has molded you into who he_ wants_ you to be, instead of loving who you _are." _Ivan's eyes narrowed, his voice low and guttural. "Do not prove him right, Toris."

He turned on his heel and left, the thumps of his boots fading into the hallways.

**AN:**

**Again, I'm sorry if this offends anyone. I know that whether or not Russia is 'stimulating' the war in Ukraine is a controversial topic. **

**Thanks for reading, and please review! :D **


	3. Don't Run

**Hey, people! What do you know, I am alive! :D**

**First of all, thank you so much to those of you who are still following and favoriting my stories. I know my posts are rare and seemingly random these days, so you are awesome for having so much patience with me! ^ ^ **

**Believe it or not, I have actually been writing for Hetalia this whole time – I just can't publish anything because most of it is revisions for DITR. Yes, I am re-writing that ungodly long story, and hopefully if I finish it I will publish the final draft on Wattpad. But until then I hope to appease you with some fluffy/angsty RusLiet. Enjoy! **

* * *

Ivan's house was designed for a family – a big one. It was meant to be lived in, not by one, but many nations working together as a unit. It was not a platform from which the nations would leave for work – it _was_ work. Each republic trusted with government matters had been given their own office, with all the resources and files they would need. Almost everyone had their own room and full-sized bathroom, not to mention the countless number of guest bedrooms. The main dining table stretched the length of a small cottage, with enough dish sets to supply an army. It was so easy to get lost in the endless hallways that at first Toris had to use string to find his way back to the front door, and the house was so big that it took a week for him and his brothers to clean it all. The mansion wasn't just_ in_ the Soviet Union – it functioned as the Soviet Union itself.

In a house so impossibly huge, it was easy to avoid confrontation. If anyone were to get into a fight, all they had to do was stay in separate wings. This made it easy to end arguments simply by turning around and storming off – it was almost certain you wouldn't see each other until the next day. By then the argument will have died down, and if not, the nations would just continue avoiding each other until it did. During one particularly rough period, Toris only saw Ivan five or six times within an entire month.

But Toris's place was no mansion; in fact it was small compared to most houses. Past the foyer was an open space with a kitchen, small dining table, and living room. A back hallway led to Toris's room, the bathroom, toilet room, and a small guest bedroom. That was it. Toris could only host one guest at a time, and even then they'd be be tripping over each other on the way to the bathroom. Toris liked it small – it forced him to leave the house and live among his people. But small quarters meant that any issues with his guests needed to be solved _immediately, _otherwise that trip on the way to the bathroom might be on purpose.

Ivan, of course, was not used to this. There was no labyrinth of hallways for him to disappear into, no huge office to shut himself up in. After the initial shock of Ivan's accusation, Toris realized that the poor Russian had nowhere to go. A slammed door told him he was in the guest room, but Ivan had been sharing a bed with Toris.

"Ivan," he moaned, rubbing his temples. "You can't just run away from your problems here…" Part of the reason for the mansion's size was that Ivan _needed_ the space to hide when he was in a mood, for his own sanity and the Baltics' protection. Toris looked around at his tiny kitchen and living room, as it dawned on him that it was only a matter of time before the Russian snapped. "I've got to give him space."

Toris groaned. He had taken the week off to be with Ivan, but the weight of his obligations settled on his shoulders as he thought of work. The notion of going into town was not one he enjoyed, but he knew that intruding upon Ivan's kilometer-wide space bubble would be even worse. With a sigh, Toris pushed himself to his feet. He swept the tea cups from the table, hand-washing them before going into his room to get ready.

"I'm heading to work, I'll be back tonight," he called as he shouldered his briefcase, snatching his keys off the hook in the hallway and pushing open the garage door. He didn't bother waiting for a response; he knew Ivan would come out of the guest room the moment his car disappeared down the hill. "I can't do this every time you decide to have a mood swing," Toris muttered to himself as he backed out of the driveway. "I want hot make-up sex when I get back."

Toris's house was in the countryside, about an hours' drive away from his office in downtown Vilnius. While some nations worked from their homes, Toris made a point to spent as much time among his people as possible. He had spent far too long not being able to see their faces every day, or hear his language on the streets. Preferring to stay away from the feeding frenzy of politics, his office was a small building wedged between some rental flats and an Italian restaurant. He pushed open the door, breathing in the musky scent of paperwork.

A young girl with bronze hair and light freckles gave him a startled look. "Laba diena, Mr. Laurinaitus."

"Laba diena," Toris said distractedly as crossed the room to his desk.

"Can I get you anything? Coffee?"

"I don't drink coffee anymore, remember?" Like alcohol, coffee had lefts its mark on Toris's memories. Even if he caught a whiff of it off the streets, he could see disheveled blonde hair and star-spangled boxers, with a scratchy, "Mornin', beautiful." To drink coffee and not be with Alfred… it was just wrong.

"Oh." Her cheeks flushed. "Sorry, sir."

Toris smiled. "It's okay, I've just had some tea." He liked hiring university students as interns; it helped him stay connected with the new generation. This girl's name was Rozalija, and she was one of the most dependable secretaries Toris ever had.

"I thought you were taking the day off," She said, glancing at the date on her computer screen. "Did your Russian friend leave early?"

"He needed some space," Toris answered, not wanting to talk about Ivan. He set his briefcase on the desk, thumbing through the contents to pull out some files. "Did Vladislava ever get back to you about that meeting? Something else came up, I can't remember – "

"Riga?"

Toris snapped his fingers. "Right, Riga. Call Sarmite for me, tell her I'm still working on it."

Work was dull, but it helped Toris get his mind off his trouble with Ivan. Running a country was a logistical nightmare; he had six meetings to attend next week alone. Toris was always astounded at the amount of work it must take to run larger countries and, in Alfred's case, still have the time to watch small-town High School football games on Friday nights. During Soviet times, Toris had always taken the countless hours that Ivan spent in his office for granted. It was no wonder he rarely saw his master during the day – Ivan had not only one country to run, but_ fifteen! _

As the hours went by and he absorbed himself in phone calls, spread sheets, and signatures, Rozalija still managed to pry into Toris's personal life.

"So your friend… what was his name?"

"Ivffan," Toris said, his voice muffled by the pen in his mouth. He held out a stack of papers. "Can you fax these to the Ministry of Finance?"

Rozalija took the papers, holding them to her chest. "So why does Ivan need space?"

Toris sighed as he scribbled a signature. "Roza, I appreciate your concerns but this is really not the time – "

"Oh come _on."_ She put a hand on her hip. "All last week you were talking about the great holiday you were going to have with this guy, and now you're back here and you're hardly looking at me! What did he do to you?"

Toris tensed at the suggestion of Ivan doing something to him. "He didn't _do_ anything, he just – !" He closed his eyes and took a breath. "Ivan gets in these… moods. He needs his space."

Rozalija frowned. "But it's_ your_ house isn't it? Why didn't you just tell him to take a walk outside? The weather really is nice, and it's such a shame for you to be back here when you could be relaxing at home."

Toris opened his mouth to answer, when suddenly he realized that there as no reason why he couldn't have told Ivan to defuse somewhere else. Except… he wasn't used to_ telling_ Ivan to do anything at all. Toris paled as he realized what he had subconsciously done.

"Mr. Laurinaitus? Are you feeling well?"

"I, uhm… I-I just – " He ran his fingers through his hair. "Can you go fax those papers, please?"

"Yes, sir." She scampered off, the office door banging shut behind her.

Toris propped his elbows on his desk, raking his fingers through his hair. "Dieve," he hissed, clenching his fists. "I'm so _stupid!" _After withstanding a lecture from Eduard about how Ivan would control him, and denying it until he turned blue… Here he was at work, almost an hours' drive away from his house where should be enjoying a nice book, all because he was too afraid of Ivan's mood swings to even be in the same house!_ His_ house! "It's a mood swing," Toris scoffed. "A _mood_ swing! He's not drunk he's not – " His eyes widened as he realized what this meant._ I'm still afraid of him. _Thirty years ago, a dark look or an accusation from Ivan could mean broken bones or torture, and interrupting him when he wanted to be alone was asking for a death sentence. But Ivan didn't have that kind of authority anymore, even if he acted like it. And he _especially_ didn't have that kind of authority over Toris. "Unless… I let him." Toris stood up from his chair so fast that papers when flying off his desk. Every second he spent here was another second that Ivan was controlling him. He grabbed the papers and shuffled them into a stack, shoving them back into his briefcase.

Rozalija pushed the door open, a stack of papers in her hand. She frowned. "What are you doing?"

"You're right," Toris said as he pulled on his suit jacket. "Coming here was a mistake. I'm going home."

Her face broke into a smile. "I knew you'd come to your senses. I can schedule the rest of your meetings for you."

"Ačiū," Toris said as he strode to the door. "And Rozalija?"

"Taip?"

He sent her a warm smile. "Have a great week."

Toris hated the feeling of dread that overcame him the moment he got to his car. It was thirty years since the Soviet Union's collapse, he and Ivan were _dating_ now, and the only vodka in the house was the small amount that Ivan brought with him – not nearly enough to get him drunk. And yet somehow Toris's instincts still screamed that this was a horrible idea. He closed his eyes, fingers tightening around the wheel as he took a deep breath.

"He is not my sovereign," he told himself. "He is not my sovereign, he is not my sovereign. I am Lietuva. I am independent. There's nothing to be afraid of." Toris opened his eyes, biting his lip as he threw the car into gear and headed home.

There was always a "right thing" to say when it came to Ivan. During Soviet times, knowing the this Right Thing to say was a matter of survival. Toris had to be constantly on his guard, always gauging what he could and couldn't get away with. There were times when he was able to soothe Ivan and bring him back into a good mood – but others, his words only infuriated his master more and there would be blood to pay for it. Toris had spent so much of his life in a dance of death with Ivan's reactions that he could predict the Russian fairly easily…but sometimes he was wrong. And now, thirty years later, he was out of practice.

Toris's thumbs tapped the steering wheel as his mind reeled through different scenarios of what could happen when he got back. There was always a Right Thing to say – he just needed to figure out what it was. "Ivan thinks I'm trying to change him," he thought aloud. "I just have to prove him wrong by showing him that he actually means good."

The sun was already bleeding into the horizon by the time Toris pulled into the driveway, fuchsia streaks shooting across the sky. He tried to ignore the slight tremor in his hands as he locked the car and stepped into the house. "I'm home!" Toris called. He glanced around to see that most of the lights were off, save for a small lamp in the living room. He hung his keys, kicking off his shoes and making his way down the hallway to his bedroom.

Toris opened the door and was surprised to see a shirtless Ivan sitting in his bed. The only light in the room was a side lamp throwing a warm yellow glow across the walls. A book was opened in Ivan's lap, a half-empty bottle of vodka set on the side-table. The Russian didn't even glance up. Toris stood in the doorway for a moment, trying to determine Ivan's mood. But his face remained completely unreadable as his eyes scanned the page in front of him. Toris stepped further into the room, sliding his briefcase off his shoulder and setting it on his desk.

"You said you were off work this week."

Toris stood facing his desk, his hands curling around the back of the chair. "There were some things… I forgot to do."

"You're lying to me." The bed shifted, and Toris turned around to see that Ivan had slid to the edge. The light threw soft shadows across the muscles in his scarred back. "You ran away."

Toris felt his throat tighten. "You were angry with me, I didn't know what else to – "

"In your _own home_, Litva. In your own home you were afraid of me."

"Ivan – "

"Is this what will happen every time I act like myself? I cannot be happy for you all the time, Litva. I cannot be kind and compassionate, that's not who I am. I will get angry. I will strip you of your pride, I will have the last word and leave you to choke on it. It's not right. But it's who I am." The tendons in his arms tightened as he gripped the edge of the bed. "When that happens, you_ cannot _run away. You must chase me down. You must fight back."

Toris was surprised at those words. He had thought he was doing Ivan a favor by leaving the house – now he realized it was all to similar to when he had ran away thirty years ago. Ivan was a paradox. A part of him demanded space because he couldn't handle social pressure, while the other part was terrified of being abandoned.

"That's what I came back to do," Toris said softly. He unbuttoned his shirt, throwing it on the bed as he crawled onto the mattress. He leaned on Ivan from behind, his hands smoothing up thick muscle, the scar tissue roughing beneath his fingers. He felt Ivan relax at his touch, his chest rising in a deep sigh. Toris rested his chin on Ivan's shoulder. "You aren't my therapy patient."

Ivan didn't answer, his fist clenched around the bedsheets as he kept his eyes forward. Toris knew what battle the Russian was fighting – he was wrestling with his pride. Toris pulled down the scarf just enough to reveal the pale skin beneath and pressed a warm kiss into Ivan's neck. Ivan tilted his head the other way to reveal more skin. Toris's arms tightened around his chest as he kissed him again.

"Tell me," he whispered into the scarf. "Why did you release Prussia?"

Ivan tensed. "We've been over this. He was a wasted asset to the Soviet Union, he served us no purpose laboring in Siberia."

"Was he?" Toris pulled back and glanced sideways at the Russian. He brought up his arms to wrap around Ivan's broad shoulders, so wide that his hands could barely meet.

Ivan frowned. "What do you mean."

"You say he was a wasted asset. But what about all the time, energy, the money you spent taking him out and training him to work for you? That was no easy task, Ivan, you were taming a fallen empire."

"I had done it before."

"To compare us is like night and day, you know that."

Ivan's lips pulled into a snarl. "What is your point, Litva?"

"My point is that you claim to have released Prussia only for business reasons, when clearly you made no profit from training him. You spent hours aiding him in paperwork, teaching him military commands and political structures, drilling him on his vocabulary. You bought him uniforms and you gave him an office, eventually an entire _house. _You networked for him, you hired secretaries for him and introduced him to the police force." Toris leaned forward so that he could get a better look at Ivan's face. "It wasn't for business reasons. So why did you do it?"

For a long time Ivan was silent, his chest rising and falling beneath Toris's arms as he continued to stare ahead. At last he closed his eyes, letting out a slow breath. "He made you happy."

Toris smiled but didn't say anything as he waited for Ivan to continue.

"Not just you. All three of you. I will never forget that night at dinner, when he made Latvia laugh. I had never seen him laugh like that. Even Estonia… he seemed less indifferent." Ivan looked down at his lap. "I did not tell you that Prussiya had been captured because I didn't want to watch that joy die again. I would hear Latvia and Estonia talk about what he might be doing in Germany… It was the only time they were truly excited about something. I didn't want to take that away.

"At first I was foolish enough to think that I could replicate what Prussiya had started, that _I_ could make you happy. But after the meeting… after everything… I could see that it was impossible. No matter what I tried, I could not bring laughter back into my home."

Toris shuddered at the memory of the weeks surrounding the meeting. Life after Prussia's escape had been nothing short of a nightmare.

"After Stalin's death, I could no longer stand it. It was all I could do to get out of bed each morning, I couldn't bare to see my family so depressed. I knew it was time for a fresh start."

"And so you released him," Toris whispered.

"Da."

Toris smiled, stroking Ivan's chest as he leaned sideways to catch his eye. "There. I found one unpleasant part of you that's simply a mask."

Ivan huffed through his nose. "Just one."

"I don't have to change you, Ivan. The man I love is already there. Sometimes I lose him, but I'll always find him again."

Ivan hummed. "This is why I cannot be with you around other nations, da? You turn me into a teddy bear."

Toris grinned. "You're an intimidating teddy bear."

Ivan wrapped thick fingers around Toris's wrists, pulling him tighter into his back. "You should not be surprised, the bear is the symbol of my country, da?"

Toris started laughing, enough for Ivan to look up at him in curiosity. "It's just – in America – th-they use a bear to depict Russia in their political cartoons."

Ivan groaned. "Da, I have seen some of them."

"It – It got so bad, Ivan, sometimes when I would look at you in the meeting room I would imagine you with big teeth and claws, and fur…"

Ivan pulled back and turned around, his eyes narrowed in the most obvious 'what the fuck' look Toris had never seen. He burst into laughter. "S-sometimes – hahaha! Sometimes I even heard growls coming from your end of the table, like you were trying t-to shuffle your paperwork, but you couldn't because you d-didn't have f-fingers!"

Ivan stared at Toris in disbelief. _"That_ is how Amerika made you see me?"

"I'm sorry!" Toris laughed. "It just – it fit you so well!"

Ivan's eyes gleamed and his lips pulled into a familiar smirk of mischief. "Alright, if you think a _bear_ fits me so well…" His great hands reached up to grab Toris by the shoulders. Toris let out a cry of surprise as Ivan pushed him back onto the bed, then he dissolved into giggles as Ivan bend over to press kisses into his neck, growling. His grip was stronger than usual, pinning Toris down with a force that made it impossible to move.

"Ivan, s-stop!" Toris laughed, but was cut off when Ivan kissed him full on the mouth. His hands came up to cup Toris's face, and Toris reached up to tangle his fingers in the Russian's hair, moaning softly. His hands left Ivan's hair to stroke his bare chest, Ivan's tongue slipped from his mouth as he leaned around Toris's other side to kiss his neck again. Toris closed his eyes and felt himself began to melt into the heat and roughness that was the Russian towering over him.

He was surprised when Ivan pulled back. "I need to take a shower."

"No you don't."

"Da." Ivan leaned forward to kiss him softly on the lips. "I do."

Toris huffed in frustration. "The last time I checked, bears don't take showers."

"Nichevo."

"Don't 'nichevo' me!" Toris reached behind him to grab a pillow and hit Ivan with it, but Ivan stopped the blow with one hand. "I hate that word, you act as though it solves every problem."

Ivan's lips twitched into a sly smile. "It does." He kissed Toris again, longer this time, before climbing off the bed. Toris sat up and watched him grab a pile of clothes before disappearing into the bathroom.

Toris fell back onto the bed and let out an explosive sigh. "Dieve, that actually worked." He smiled, a warm feeling settling in his chest. This relationship was anything but easy – both of them knew that going in. But maybe, if they worked hard enough…

_You went back to Russia! You crawled back to him, Liet, like a pathetic dog to his master! Who even _are_ you!?_

Toris's smile faded. He rolled over, hugging the pillow to his chest as he tried to block out the scaling memory. But no matter how hard he tried to push it away, he couldn't get Feliks out of his head. That contorted face, streaked with tears, burning with more anger than Toris had seen in ages... As his mind reviewed their last conversation, he felt as though the life was being sucked right out of his bones. Lying there, shirtless and curled up on his bed with the spray of shower water echoing from the bathroom, Toris had never felt so alone.

**AN:  
**

**I modeled Toris's house off of a home I stayed in while I was in the Czech Republic. I can't say for sure if this is true for Lithuania, but in Eastern Europe it's common to have an "entrance room" where everyone leaves their shoes, and then wears slippers (In Russia they're called "tapochki") inside the house. Also toilets are usually kept separate from baths and/or showers, so in Russia if you ask someone where the bathroom is, they'll be a little confused. Well you're not about to take a bath, are you? ;)**

**Some of you may be confused by their conversation about Prussia being in the Gulag. For now I'll just say that it's a little spoiler to ****Oко за Oко. **

**The Russian word "Nichevo" has many meanings, but it can be used as a phrase that basically means "What will be, will be", in a way to dismiss problems or arguments. **

**As you can see, I have been learning many wonderful things about Russia in college, and hopefully I can study abroad there in a year or two! :D Thanks so much for reading, and please review! **


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